


Finding My Religion

by Kayim



Category: Son of a Preacher Man (Song)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-22
Updated: 2010-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-13 23:34:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/142915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kayim/pseuds/Kayim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were two things that Johnny loved.  God.  And other boys.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding My Religion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefourthvine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefourthvine/gifts).



> I saw this listed on your Dear Yuletide Author page and couldn't resist writing it. The version of the song that you mentioned was awesome, and I hope I can do a little justice to it!

There were two things that Johnny loved.

God. And other boys.

The first he kept hidden from his friends at school, ashamed of their reaction to the "religious freak" that wandered amongst them. The second he kept hidden from everyone.

Until the day Billy Ray came into his life.

Dressed in his Sunday best, Johnny had been sitting patiently on one of the dining chairs that his parents had carried into the living room, allowing the guests to have the comfort of the armchair and sofa. He tried not to squirm, despite the tightness of his collar and the numbness of his backside, but even as he listened to the Preacher commending their community for its generosity to a stranger, he found himself growing tired.

This wasn't the God he wanted to hear about. He needed more than sermons on loving thy neighbor and goodwill unto all men – he still believed in them with his whole heart, but they weren't enough for him anymore. He needed the passion of fire and brimstone to wake him up inside, but the newly arrived Preacher of a small backwater town deep in the middle of nowhere could never provide that.

A knock on the door stole the attention from the Preacher, all eyes turning to the heathen who would dare to interrupt. Johnny, grateful for the chance to stand up, rushed to the door.

A boy stood there, a few years older than Johnny, his arms folded across his chest, hair brushing over his collar. His thin denim jacket hung open over a black t-shirt that seemed to be a size too small. Johnny found himself transfixed, unable to look away, as if he was confronted by the newly resurrected Savior himself. Whether it was the light from the setting sun that silhouetted him or something more mystical, Johnny wasn't sure, but something about the older boy held his gaze.

"You nearly finished in here?" he asked, his voice thick and syrupy. He nodded his head at Johnny, the briefest of acknowledgements and then peered around the door looking for someone, leaning so close that Johnny caught the scent of something unfamiliar, but enticing.

Before Johnny could speak, the Preacher came up behind him and addressed the boy. "Billy Ray, I asked you to please wait patiently outside, if you were so determined not to join us here." He turned to the rest of the expectant congregation. "I apologize for my son. He is going through a rebellious period."

Heads nodded in understanding and pity, all eyes firmly on the figure in the doorway. The Preacher looked at Johnny, his eyes dark with embarrassment. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to keep Billy Ray company for a while, would you?" he asked. "I wouldn't usually ask only…"

"Sure," Johnny interrupted before either of them could change their minds. "Let me grab my jacket." He looked at Billy Ray as he spoke and a moment of recognition passed between them.

It was late enough into the autumn for the winds to bring a coldness with them, and Johnny pulled his jacket tighter around him, kicking fallen leaves as he stepped. For a while, the two boys walked beside one another in silence. Questions hung in the air between them; Johnny too nervous to ask and Billy Ray too stubborn.

"So…" he said hesitantly.

"Hey…" Billy Ray said at the same moment.

They smiled at each other.

"So your dad's a preacher?" Johnny asked, instantly ashamed of his question. Of course Billy Ray's dad was a preacher, he'd just spent the last hour listening to the man preach. He had wanted to say something more profound, more mature, the kind of question that would make Billy Ray look at him with admiration, rather than the laughter that was flashing in his eyes.

"Yeah, kid," he replied with a soft laugh that Johnny felt deep inside him. "Praise the Lord, Hallelujah and all that junk."

It wasn't the first time Johnny had heard those sentiments – after all, the vast majority of his school was filled with non-believers - but it seemed wrong coming from Billy Ray. As they continued to walk in silence, Johnny wondered why it was so wrong. He didn't think it was because of Billy Ray's father, as he'd known other Preacher's kids who were just as ambivalent about their religion, but he couldn't identify it. All he knew was that, for some inexplicable reason, he felt let down by the revelation.

"You really into all that?" Billy Ray finally spoke as they turned to walk down a small footpath, between two houses. The meager sunlight bypassed the narrow space, and shadows surrounded them like ghostly followers. He stopped and faced Johnny. "Everything my dad goes on about?"

Johnny nodded, not trusting himself to speak as Billy Ray came another step closer. He tried to move again, before he realized that the coolness behind him was the brick wall. The cold air misted Billy Ray's breath between them, both of them watching as Johnny's inhale swallowed it – their own personal communion.

"Tell me what you believe?"

It wasn't just a question about religion, Johnny realized that in an instant. Here they were, at a crossroads that, once a path was chosen, couldn't be corrected. He thought about his answer, about what he wanted to say, and about what he thought Billy Ray wanted to hear, his heart beating faster than it had any right to. "I believe that God tests us every day, throwing obstacles and challenges in our path."

"Obstacles like what?" Billy Ray asked, his hands bracing against the wall on either side of Johnny's head.

"Like you," Johnny replied without thinking.

Before he knew what was happening, Billy Ray's lips were on his, their bodies pressed against each other, and his hands were twisted into Billy Ray's hair. He felt the fire and brimstone itself building up inside him, his soul being ripped in two by this devil-angel in front of him. He wanted more, needing to feel this forever.

This was the passion he had always longed for; the intensity he needed. As his hands slid down Billy Ray's back, under the jacket, feeling the heat burning him, he had his epiphany.

Billy Ray was his religion.


End file.
